


Just One Drop

by sapsorrow



Category: Dark Souls II
Genre: M/M, Sex Magic, because gwwnevere was the goddess of sunlight and fertility, but still mad, can get revenge in other ways besides murder tho, creighton is still dumbly inlove with the bastard, even if they work out, licia can brew some kinda weird potion, pate thinks he's clever but really sometimes he makes shitty decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 17:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16433432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapsorrow/pseuds/sapsorrow
Summary: Things could have gone very differently if Pate had just been a little smarter. Always listen to the warning labels.





	Just One Drop

Pate held the rotund bottle in his hand, swirling the glowing golden liquid inside as he watched it. It looked a bit like mead, he decided, and wondered just how much of what Licia was selling was true at all. However, the cleric assured him that, yes, this would have the desired effect. He hummed, nodded his head, and pocketed the potion into one of his many pouches and smiled his friendliest of smiles. Two very false people stood face to face, neither dropping their charade. "Thank you, Licia, this could very well save a life tonight."

The 'cleric' raised a brow from under her hood. "Oh? That's rather dramatic. But I have to warn you, whoever takes it should only have one drop, three at most. I wouldn't recommend more than that for one day." It had not been cheap, this special little potion -- but just three drops at most? Pate wondered if he'd just been swindled. He watched her carefully. Just like all his own tricks, each one carried a hint of truth. She wasn't lying, none that he could tell, and he wouldn't be able to get such a product anywhere else in this desolate world.

"I will keep that in mind."

A few pleasantries were shared and polite goodbyes before the two parted ways. Neither one of their smiles faltered down their different paths.

 

\---

 

The treasure hunter had finally returned to the remains of his hideout. As homely as he tried to keep such a place, it felt hollow and empty. Something was missing, or some _one_ really. Pate had to roll his eyes in quiet disgust at himself. He shouldn't get sentimental. There was a high chance this wouldn't work at all. He sighed and meticulously tidied up what he could, rearranging the bookshelf and ignoring the click click clack of that giant spider hidden behind it. Avoiding the inevitable was Pate's specialty, after all. Wasn't a problem if he couldn't see it.

The words on the wind, so to speak, whispered about how close Creighton was to finding him. He set his lips into a thin line and removed the potion from his belt and watched the golden liquid glint against the faint light from the window's small cast of light. "I suppose I shouldn't hold this off any longer." He brushed the thumb of his glove over the cork and gently yanked it out without making a splash. Warily, he gave the contents a sniff and balked a bit. The smell was so strong he had to cough and cover his nose with his free arm.

"Gracious," he muttered. It was so sickeningly sweet. The idea of letting a single drop land on his tongue almost made him gag. Pate silently chided at himself. He couldn't let this go to waste, it cost too many souls and his fate was banking on this if the Bearer of the Curse turned out to be of no help. A backup plan, at the very least. Steeling himself, Pate opened his mouth and gingerly placed the concoction over his tongue. His hand was certainly not shaking by any means, but keeping it at just the right angle to make sure only a single drop escaped was a little more frustrating than he thought.

In the end, two drops managed to fall and he quickly closed his mouth afterwards with a shudder as they slid down his throat. It did not feel like liquid, at least nothing he had ever experienced. It was almost solid, like slime as it traveled down his throat and warmed his entire body from within. At least it was instantaneous? Pate wondered if he had made a mistake, because nothing else happened. There was a faint electric buzz against his tongue and he felt pleasantly fine, but that was it.

"Hmm..." Pate would allow himself to wait. The results probably wouldn't be felt on his own, but by how the ax murderer would react. Sighing, he went to pull out one of the many books he had already read more than once. Perhaps, at some point, he'd forget he had ever read it. He pushed that dismal thought to the back of his mind and took a seat in his single, uncomfortable chair, opened up the book, and waited.

\---

An hour had passed without any inclination that the potion really did anything at all. Pate closed his book in mild frustration and looked around, brows knitting. Licia had explained that the power of the contents in that little bottle would bring out the desired reaction for those intended. That Creighton would no longer be able to hold such a petty grudge after seeing him. If his gentle, soothing voice would not be enough to quell Creighton's anger, certainly some magic could. But a linger of doubt inched its way into his heart and into his mind. 

What if two drops would not be enough?

Pate stood up, rigid for a moment until his eyes landed on the bottle he left on the table. "...three drops, she said. But she was keeping something from me." He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, still eyeing that viscous golden liquid until his patience wore out and he returned to grab it. Pate took a sip instead, leaving half of the contents inside the bottle as he placed it back down and hunched over the table. It was a chore to swallow that goop down. He had almost forgot how disgusting a simple drop felt. How the taste was too sweet and pungent. He involuntarily shuddered and eventually sucked in a breath when it was over.

"If this all turns out to be just a bunch of hogwash," he began to complain to himself, he paused as the pleasant warmth began to heat up in his belly. It wasn't painful by any means, but it reminded him all too well of the warmth of the sun. "Mm...that's different," he mused, just a tad more content and a little lazy as his eyelids almost drew closed as if he'd nap. 

He jolted awake, however, his mind constantly reminding him to stay aware of everything right now. It was crucial, after all. Creighton could arrive at any time now. He was barely a day's travel away according to one of his current sources. Now, though, he wasn't so much lazy as he was restless. Pate began to pace around the abode as he had earlier, but he felt heat rise throughout his entire body like someone enveloped him in a very snug blanket that just so happened to smother his face as well.

"Oooh," the mild mannered man began to groan, catching himself against the wall as his face flushed and his eyes glazed for a moment, hazing his vision as his nether regions began to tingle with an almost electrical shock. It traveled through him so quickly it made his knees buckle and another strangled noise escape his lips. The thorns embedded into his finger was the only unpleasant feeling he felt, and only then it grew into just another jolt of pleasure as he flexed his fingers and dug into the wall. 

Pate was totally, unexpectedly, completely hard. 

He shouldn't be so surprised by this revelation, truly. He knew this had been some kind of aphrodisiac at the least, but he had the idea it would only cause a reaction from Creighton due to the pheromones the magic would make him give off. The smell had been pungent in the bottle, but he had noticed no changes in himself for the last hour. Now this? Perhaps Licia's warning rang true, but it wasn't so terrible.

At least now he could have another way to pass the time. He could only imagine the masked man's reaction once he stepped through that door, the scent of arousal and enticing sweet aromas, Pate against the wall and pleasuring himself in his line of sight, moaning his name. How desperate would Creighton want to replace those fingers with his cock? How angry would he be that the treasure hunter was touching himself instead of waiting? A throaty chuckle escaped Pate as he imagined it all, the crease of his trousers stretching against the push of his erection. 

"This sure is something," he murmured to himself and eventually tugged a bit of his trousers down and stroked himself, steady and firm at first but his vision went white for a moment, as if just a brush to his crown left him a mess. " _Oh_ ," he gasped, a bit breathless and a little shaken. His skin flushed with desire and embarrassment. He'd just come all over his gloved hand in less than a minute. He swallowed thickly, eyes a bit owlish before he tried to tug his pants back up and dry off the remains on his glove. Pate chose not to think about it, how just a slight touch and the thought of the Mirrahn knight had thrown him for such a loop. Or that he was still, impossibly, achingly hard. Awkwardly he shuffled for a towel and wiped his glove clean, tsking at himself. It was just the potion at work, nothing more. He must be producing so much of that scent it has put his body in overdrive, sensitivity on high alert. 

Surely that at least was true. He was now painfully aware of everything. The barest of contact from his own clothes, the armor plating, the tight leather straps. It was all a bit much. Before long, still waiting for that damned, stupid knight, Pate had stripped himself of most of his armor. Helmet had even been discarded as sweat dampened his hair and made his flushed skin shimmer. Even so, his loose dark shirt and pants still felt like too much, but he wouldn't go that far. Ridiculous. That scene he imagined in his mind kept replaying and he burned with shame. No, he wouldn't actually stoop so low as that. Would he? 

A part of him knew that being so vulnerable was bad. Terrible, in fact. Unmistakably stupid. Creighton would kill him, aroused by the show or not, he was sure. If Pate could stay composed enough, get his words out, plead his case while coming off as the most desirable thing the knight had ever seen, there was a chance. Too soon all at once, though? No, no, it'd just kick a different desire into gear, Pate imagined. That desire to kill and punish. But the man had surprised him before, more often than not. Unpredictable more than he was clever.

Pate let out a huff of a breath and tried to sit comfortably. It was not possible. Jerking himself off only gave temporary relief, and he still came with very little effort at all. It didn't set well with him. He'd wait it out, wait for Creighton. 

Two hours. _Two hours more_ he waited for that bastard and still he wasn't there! Pate pushed himself up onto his feet and stumbled, dizziness overcoming him as he caught himself against the table and practically moaned out the man's name, such a weak cry for help. He bit his lip, enough that he tasted copper as the dizziness subsided. His heart pounded heavy in his chest and he wondered if he could die from this. It certainly felt like it, if he was completely honest. Like he'd have a heart attack at any moment. The tiniest of tears stung the corners of his eyes and he tied to blink them away, lashes wet with the sweat that would not leave his fevered body. 

He hadn't tried touching himself since the last one an hour ago and it was _killing_ him. He cursed Licia, he cursed himself, and he cursed Creighton as he palmed himself desperately once more and not a moment later, gripping the table with his other hand, he came so hard he did not see white. He saw black. His body had completely given out from under him.

\---

 

When Pate began to return to consciousness, he couldn't help the pathetic noise that came out of him. It was made worse, however, when he was all too aware of hands on him. They were not -- surprisingly enough -- violent in nature. Instead they felt soothing against his fevered flesh, petting almost. As his eyes tried to focus and blink away the wetness that had gathered there, he could see not a mask, but the familiar white hair and stubbly, scarred chin. "Crei-" he began, his voice going up an embarrassingly high octave as if he was beginning to whine.

"Shh, fook, wot the hell's wrong with you, ya can't go killin' yourself, ya prick. That's _my_ job." Creighton's voice was gruff, a sharp contrast to how his chainmailed hand carefully caressed Pate's fevered cheek and the soft intake of breath as the thief leaned into it.

"You finally got here...took you long enough," Pate heard himself say, eyes fluttering closed. He could hear Creighton's concerned grunts, worried he'd gone and blacked out again, but Pate simply smiled.

"You 'ave a lot of explaining to do, bastard." Creighton moved to try to hoist Pate up to a sitting position despite the delirious man's protests. The treasure hunter's hands quickly clutched onto the knight's tabbard and barely swallowed down a keening noise as he leaned in and pressed his face into the crook of his neck. "Wot the fook--" Creighton's protest was drowned out by a hum of acknowledgement, nosing into Pate's neck in turn, grazing that stubble against Pate's already sensitive skin. He shuddered. "This your idea of an...apology?" The knight groaned, desire lilted in the husk of his voice. 

"Gods, yes, yes of course. I'm sorry," Pate blathered out, tongue loose before he found his lips and teeth making contact along Creighton's neck, feeling that quickening pulse against his teeth. Good, good, he wanted this to work. It had to work. Gods, he thought he could stand the man hating him but he couldn't. He couldn't, he couldn't. "Please please please," he began to murmur desperately, pressing closer against him, hands searching for the knight's cock before Creighton's hand caught his wrist.

Despite the suddenness of the act, it wasn't a painful grip. Creighton had gently pried Pate off of him to look at him carefully, brows knitted and icy blue eyes searching for any hint of truth from Pate's pathetic whines. "Ya really mean that? This isn't some other trick?" Hurt was in his voice, but there was still hope there, if one really listened.

Pate nodded quickly. He couldn't stand to look at him. At least not like this, when he could see the damage he'd done with his actions. Guilt choked him and he gasped out a little sob before bowing his head. This damned potion. It was opening up a part of himself he tried so hard to keep down. He was trembling with need and a desperation to feel loved. He couldn't _stand_ it.

That seemed to be enough answer for Creighton, though, when he eventually cupped Pate's face to make him look at him before their lips crushed together and Pate saw stars.

In only a few minutes, there were no clothes between them, the knight seamlessly slipping his cock deep inside Pate that blossomed nothing but pure pleasure to every nerve ending in his body. The potion had somehow, miraculously, slicked him up for a perfect penetration. How he had not felt it before, he didn't know. Maybe it happened while he had been passed out arousal-drunk on the floor. Either way, the slickness allowed for quick thrusts as the two of them clung to each other. Pate desperately wrapped around him, fingers biting into skin as he let out any obscenity known to man, prayed to Creighton and cried as he came. Still, Creighton wasn't done, and Pate would let him finish, nearly slack against him but still holding on.

Even with this act alone, Pate could still feel that warm magic pulse off of his skin in waves, knew he wasn't done, knew Creighton likely wasn't either. They would fuck it all out of him, this fever.

"Gods, you're insatiable," Creighton panted hoarsely, watching Pate squirm under his fingers.

Despite how much his mind felt like it was melting under his touch, Pate gave a small little smirk. "That's a big word for yo--aah!" He jerked his hips forward with a whine of desperation as a rough finger massaged something inside him that made him feel like he was on fire all over again.

"Shut up, ya slimy toad." But there wasn't any animosity in Creighton's words this time, but a teasing fondness. Pate almost felt the prick of tears starting to form at the edge of his eyes. He didn't deserve this - this stupid man. 

Soft, reddened lips met scarred ones once more and they were at it again.

 

\---

 

The Bearer of the Curse had been told that Brightstone Cove was here Mild-Mannered Pate lived, where Creighton of Mirrah claimed would be their final showdown. This, they decided, was not something they would miss. A thought began to nag at them. Who would they help, once they got there? The charming rogue who clearly had it out for them in the nicest way, or the lunatic hellbent simply on revenge probably deserved? 

They didn't have much time to dwell on this once they reached the place and paused, frozen in shock when they thought the cries of pain meant the fight had begun. No, these cries were definitely not made in combat, though the two men were certainly locked together. The chorus of 'yes yes yes' and 'fook!' were very, very loud. Face hidden behind a helmet, the Bearer turned away, red faced, and let themselves out before they were noticed.

WELL, at least that had worked itself out. They didn't get enough souls for this shit.


End file.
